Sin
by LVCatullus
Summary: LokixOC I know what it's like being the black sheep. Sharing one's body with a demon doesn't make one very popular. I get stuck with all of Shield's impossible jobs and the distrusting glares of my co-workers. I know what it's like to be feared and hated, and so does he. I guess that's why I find him so easy to understand. We're both monsters. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid.
1. Introduction

Hi! I'm a long time guest but this is my first time writing, so please be gentle. This is going to be an OC fic, so if you have something against OC's I'm letting you know you probably will not enjoy this one. I would be very grateful for any insight or comments anyone might offer even flames; I need to toughen up anyway. Alright, so disclaimers: I do not own the Avengers, Marvel Comics, Florence + the Machine, f.u.n., "Never Let Me Go", "Some Nights", iPod, or BBC's Sherlock, even though I really wish I did. I do, however, own Agent Sin so tally one up for me. Wew! Now, enjoy.

LVCatullus

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I had gotten the call to come in two days ago but I haven't felt like running to his beck and call, Fury's that is. I had just finished a month-long stint in South Africa and hadn't gotten very much sleep over the past four weeks; four hours a night if I was lucky. Most of the time I went 48 or 72 hours without sleep, so excuse me for wanting to have a few days to myself before dragging my ass back to base.

Now I'm catching a bush-plane back to the mainland before hopping on the twelve plus hour flight from Cape Town to HQ located somewhere in a North American desert. I can't say I'm really looking forward to the flight. Who wants to be locked in a hyperbaric chamber packed in between people like so many sardines? It's not like I haven't done it before, but it's not the most pleasurable of experiences life has to offer. Once when I was flying from Newark to Edinburgh I got stuck in the middle seat between an old woman who I'm pretty sure was in the beginning stages of dementia and the largest, smelliest man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. The whole flight, which was an overnight-er by the way, I had the pleasure of listening to a mad woman's ramblings and of trying to keep from touching the man who belonged in a pigsty rather than a commercial flight.

In any case, with a great sigh of consternation I make my way down the access ramp to the open door of the Boeing I'm was being forced to enter. The flight attendant checks my ticket and sends me off to first class. This time I have been lucky enough to have money from my latest job to spend on comfort. In my mind first class is the only acceptable way to travel. As I plop down into my leather padded arm-chair I wonder why I've been called in so suddenly. Usually I get one or two weeks off after an ongoing assignment like this past one. I sigh once again as I tilt my head to rest against the seat and ready myself for a day of complete and utter boredom. There's not much fun to be had on a plane; first class or not. I pull out my iPod and unravel my ear buds from the tangle they had become in my pocket. No matter what you do they'll always find a way to not themselves up in physics defying ways. I deftly put the right and left in their respective ears and start from the beginning of my music library. I give the little gadget a shake and shuffle does not disappoint me when "Never Let Me Go" starts trickling into my ears. Ugh, gotta love Florence + the Machine.

Sometime after the in-flight supper and "Some Nights" I must have drifted off to sleep because now I'm opening my eyes and cursing every muscle in my body that was abused by sleeping sitting up. At least my brain feels kind of refreshed. A flight attendant notices my state of consciousness and offers me some water and a tiny Styrofoam bowl of breakfast cereal and tells me that we'll be landing within the hour. Thank God. I can almost feel the clots forming in my legs from the constant inertia. I put away my iPod, rolling up my ear buds neatly, even though they won't stay that way, and turn on the monitor that's situated on the back of the headrest of the seat in front of me. After flicking through the TV and movie options I'm surprised when BBC's _Sherlock_ appears in the list. I love the show but it's not very mainstream compared to the summer blockbusters and reality TV dramas that populate the rest of the screen. I won't be able to finish the episode but I select "The Blind Banker" and relax back into my seat.

Next thing I know Sherlock is running around a museum shouting quips at an unknown gunman and the plane is starting its descent into Newark. I turn off the monitor, slightly miffed that I hadn't even gotten to my favorite part, and check to make sure all my odds and ends were secure in my carry-on.


	2. Surprises

Chapter One

I exit the flying death contraption and head to the gate where I'll be hitching my next flight that will take me to New Mexico. It's seems like an odd place for a secret agency base, but then again, New Mexico isn't very inhabited and not many people want to go poking around the middle of a desert. It takes about half an hour of ambling across the airport and many pit stops at kitschy gift shops (so I find them amusing, don't judge me) I take a seat in a crappy chair hoping that the flight will arrive early, even though that must be against the airline code of business. I haven't been sitting five minutes when I see a familiar face appear out of the crowd of tourists and businessmen. What the fuck is Maria doing here? Isn't she supposed to be in NM with Fury? They're never apart, it's like they're attached at the hip.

She's wearing a bland pantsuit in black and an expression that reads 'pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.' She stops, taking a power stance in front of me while I choose to remain seated. I'm off duty right now. I don't have to be little soldier girl till I'm at the base. Unperturbed, Agent Maria Hill addresses me in her usual tone leaving no space for argument.

"There's been a new development. We're heading to our New York HQ. Come on, your bags are already waiting in the car."

I give her a wary glance and stand, gesturing her to lead the way. We have to walk nearly the entire way that I've just come, which is enough to get me in a bad mood on top of Maria's surprise visit. God knows I hate surprises. To my delight we somehow bypass the main lobby and the enormous queue and exit through a discrete side exit. The black standard issue government SUV is everything that I would expect and I hop into the back without a fuss. I am joined by Maria, and whoever is being our chauffeur for the night eases out of the parking lot and into traffic. The next hour that passed was very quiet and quite uncomfortable since no one had anything to say. I was being cautious and mapping every road we took, planning for contingencies because in my short career with Shield I've never been as ignorant of my situation as I was in that hour. I've never been to the New York HQ so I don't know what to expect and added to that I have no idea why I've been summoned on such short notice. It has all the makings of shitty day for me.

As we get deeper into the city I become more and more confused. How the hell could HQ be located in the middle of downtown? It's just too damn obvious. It's like painting a bull's-eye on each of our backs and mooning the enemy. However, staring out the window at the world around me I have to admit that the city itself was magnificent. The last time I was here I was on my senior trip in high school, but then I had been a tourist. Now I feel like I have a right to be here, to be a part of this chaos. It's actually kind of energizing seeing people rushing about, living their lives in blissful ignorance of half the things that are gunning to destroy this way of life. I wonder what it must be like. Of course since the invasion they understand a shred of the danger that lurks in the unknown, but there's so much they don't understand. What if they knew about me, for instance? The wolf in sheep's clothing they'll never see. They'll never even suspect. Why would they? To them I'm just some short girl with blonde hair. Most of them probably wouldn't even get my age right. Somehow this makes me angry. They'll never know me; who I am. They'll never know what it's like to be the monster, the sin eater. They'll never know the absolute heartache and loneliness that shadows everyone who finds oneself living my kind of life. I have nothing and they have everything, and they don't even know it. How fucking stupid are they? Always wanting more; more money, more sex, more things, more life. They have everything and they're still so fucking greedy. They're all glutinous little wretches.

I feel a shift in the seat next to me and find Maria examining my face. I realize how taut my face feels and immediately smooth my expression into one of nonchalance. I look inward and call out to the thing in my soul; my demon.

Stop sneaking into my head. We have an agreement, don't we? I agreed to work for these wack-jobs so you could have your fun and you agreed to leave my mind alone. Back off.

I can feel a slight tremor in my heart and then nothing. He got the message. I come back to awareness to find that we have reached our destination. Maria is eyeing me over for signs of possession from the opposite side of the back seat.

"I'm alright, jeez. I just slipped into bad mood. It's nothing major. I'm fine." I put on a smile so she'll calm down but it doesn't seem to help.

"Sure. Come on and get your bags, we're heading up," she calls while getting out of the car. She pops the hatch of the SUV and I peer inside, regretting having taken so much with me to South Africa. Three suitcases sat unmoving in the trunk and I calculate the chances of Maria or the chauffeur taking one or two of them. Neither of them will look me in the eye so I take that as my hint to stop being such a pansy and grab the cases. I heave the first one out of the back and set it down on the curb and grin triumphantly as some sort of grunt comes rushing out to put all of my things on a cart and wheels them away. With that sorted Maria tells me to hurry up and we make our way to an elevator and step inside the ultra modern glass coffin. You can tell I'm not that fond of elevators. A thought strikes me.

"So where are we anyway?"

"New York HQ," was Maria's tight reply.

"Yes, but what building is this? Is had to be at least thirty stories going by the time we've been in here."

She gives a huff of agitation and replies, "Stark Tower."

Now was that so hard? All she had to do was answer a simple question. Her prejudice against me is really starting to wear on my nerves. I haven't done a damn thing to make her so uptight and I can feel her death glares prodding at my back. Can't wait till she's gone and I can relax a bit. Maybe have some tea.

Wait. Wait. Did she just say Stark Tower? What kind of stupid ass place is that for a top-secret base? That's not secret at all. In fact, it's the opposite. Fury must be getting senile in his old age. It's the only explanation.

I hear the light ping of the elevator meeting its stop and brace myself for whatever madness is about to ensue. Maria and the chauffeur step out into a modern and therefore boring hallway and I follow keeping a bit of space between us. Don't want to get too close or she might try to devour my soul. Seriously, what's her problem? Our little group passes a couple of doorways before coming to a stop at the end of the hall. Maria takes a key card out of her pocket and runs it through a reader on the side of the door. With a hiss the door slides away revealing another boring room. Oh, and Fury.

"Nice of you to join us, Agent Sin."

"Well, I couldn't exactly refuse, now could I?" I roll my eyes for dramatic effect.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

"Like I said, it's not like I can refuse. You made that perfectly clear when you recruited me to your band of merry men." Somehow, even with only one eye his stare can bore down into my heart. Almost as if he can read my mind.

"Christ! Okay. I just needed a break, alright? You had me following that slave trader for weeks day and night. I haven't had a straight eight hour of sleep since over a month ago. Two days isn't a lifetime." I raise my voice towards the end. It's been a while since anyone has heard me talk so casually, not to mention so loudly. I see movement in my peripheral vision and turn to watch as Maria removes her hand from her side arm. Ugh. Just because some dick makes me mad doesn't mean I'm going to turn the place into a killing field. Who do they think I am? The Hulk? I have much more finesse and control than that. I had to barter a lot just to keep control of my mind. I'm not going to give up what I fought so hard to keep at the drop of a hat. I pivot on my heels and stare the woman dead in the eye. Her pupils contract and dilate almost imperceptibly but I grin in satisfaction. She's the first to look away. I win.

"Let's get straight to the point, Sin." Nice segue, Fury.

"I called you here because I have reason to believe we're being threatened by an outside force." I peak an eyebrow in response. "Don't even start, Agent. We think it's the Chitauri." A hologram appears above the conference table. Hundreds of stars are littering the air, dotting the image of what I can only assume is deep space. Then, the frames start progressing and Fury pauses on an image that would seem completely normal except for the fact that the constellations were unrecognizable. "What do you see, Sin?"

"Is this a different quadrant from the last ones?"

"No. the coordinates are exactly the same, so what changed?"

"It looks like the sky sprouted a bunch of new stars, sir, but that can't be right. Satellites? No, they're too big. Some sort of space craft?"

"Indeed." He takes his eye off the hologram to give me his full attention. "When we first noticed this anomaly we thought it might be prudent to compare this photo to the ones we gathered from the invasion of New York. There are some minor differences in scale and design but we'd rather be safe than sorry." I nod in understanding, but I still don't understand my part in all this.

"You're wondering why I'm telling you any of this." I huff in acknowledgement. "As far as I know there is only one person who can verify whether these are Chitauri vessels. And you, Agent Sin, I believe you are the only one capable of retrieving him."

My half lidded gaze of curiosity is now one of full-blown disbelief. "Loki?" I half whispered. "You want me to step and fetch the guy who nearly destroyed our planet and bring him back here? So you can ask him a few questions? You really think he's going to tell you the truth? He's the god of lies for fuck's sake! You can't trust a damn word he says."

"You think I don't know that? We could be on the cusp of the biggest cluster fuck in the history of the Earth. I need to know what we're facing and he's the only chance we have at figuring out what the fuck is happening out there. I don't give a damn if he's the Almighty Himself, you're going to get him here and then I'm going to make him tell the truth. I'll kill him and then bring his godly ass back from the dead if I have to."

"And how am I even supposed to do this? Inter-dimensional travel? What makes you think I can pull that off?" I shout at him. My chest is heaving and I can feel my throat stinging at the abuse.

"I know you can teleport, and I know you can track people. You have magic. Use it."

"Sure, sure, 'cause popping over to Asgard is like a trip to the grocery store."

"I didn't ask how hard it is. I didn't even ask if you could do it. I'm telling you to do it. I am ordering you to."

"What about that gate-keeper guy? Heim-something? Why can't you just shout it out to him and have him send the bastard down?"

"We've tried communication with Asgard and Heimdallr. We haven't gotten any response. Besides, the Bifrost is broken. No one can get in or out that way."

"So you want me to be your Rainbow Bridge? I'm telling you I'm not some intergalactic taxi. I don't know how." I finish, taking a seat in one of the swivel chairs sitting around the conference table. Fury strides across the room from his place at the head of the table and sits down in the chair to my right. He turns and faces me head on and leans forward.

"I wouldn't be ordering you to do this if I though you couldn't. I need you to do this. I know you have the power, I've seen you work. I was there the night we picked you up. I know you've got this in you."

His eyes hold nothing but solid conviction. He isn't trying to play me. I can tell that much. He's so grave. I've never seen him so intent on a mission. I can feel my heart beating in my throat and God help me, I know he's right. I know I can do this. I'm not sure how, but I have to do it.

A nod; that's all it takes to seal the deal. Fury leans back in his chair. I rest my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands, grasping the strands of hair and digging my nails into my scalp. I know that this has the chance to go horribly wrong, or horribly right.

"How much time do you need to prepare?" He's rocking back and forth as he watches me.

I lift my head and reply. "Give me a week to rest and cleanse, and I'll need something from Asgard."

"I believe we can allow that. As for something from Asgard, I'm sure we can scrounge up something Thor left behind."

"Hair or something he wore would be best, but hair is definitely the easiest to work with," I instruct. I can already feel my muscles tightening and my head beginning to pound a light staccato. "If that's all, I'd like to find my room now."

"Of course, Maria, show Agent Sin to her room. You are dismissed."


	3. Going Under

Hi everyone! I just wanna take some time and thank all of you who have chosen to have a look at my project. This is my first time not only as a fan-writer, but in taking on an extended piece. I'm used to writing short stories and poetry, which is probably why my chapters are so short, so if you have any comments or advice please let me know. Also, I think I forgot my list of things I do not own last chapter but here they are again: the Avengers, Marvel, and I think that's all for this time. Enjoy!

LVCatullus

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Chapter 2

As the door to my cell-like room slides shut I let out a breath of relief and tuck the card key into my bra. After all it is the safest place to keep something; right above my heart. How cliché. I notice my bags have been left by the bed so I pick one up and put on the mattress setting about to unpack. The room is nothing special. I think we had to ride down more than thirty flights in the elevator to get to this floor. That would make this an underground level. I hate underground rooms. The harsh fluorescent lighting is a poor substitute for the real thing. Plus, the subtle flickering gives me migraines.

In sum, I estimate the room to be a square fourteen by fourteen; a pretty good size compared to my room at the NM base. There's a standard Government Issue looking desk on the west wall with my twin size bed lined up parallel with the east wall. A door on the north wall leads into a small, but nicely appointed bathroom with a shower-bath combo and vanity sink along with a toilet and a mirror. There is no decoration, no kitschy nick knacks. It's even barer than a cheap hotel room. There's no TV and seemingly no electronic devices aside from the lights of course. There is one dresser, though, and a serviceable closet on the west wall beside the desk. I am surprised to find a foot locker at the end of the bed for weapons, I suppose.

After an hour I've finished packing when there's a light tap on my door. I stand from my position on the bed and cross the room, kind of agitated that I am being bothered again so soon. In the doorway stood a young-looking grunt, probably not out of his teens, holding a tray.

"Supper, Mam. I was told you only wanted soup and water but I can get you something else, if you want." He actually has some kindness in his voice when he speaks to me. I guess he's too green to have heard about my condition. I nod my thanks to him, taking the tray and closing the door leaving him standing on the outside. That's about as personal as I get. I have nothing against him but I'm like that with everyone; ever since I changed. I can't deny that I'm lonely, but people just aren't worth it. The only people who are remotely close to being friends are Fury and Maria - and Phil, when he was alive. Those aren't even friends, they're co-workers.

Back when I first started at Shield, I tried to make connections. I was desperate to be normal. Needless to say, when word got out what I am and what I had done they scattered, not that there were many to begin with. Phil was the only one who made any effort to get to know me. I guess he was one of the most senior agents so he probably knew what evil really looks like. He knew I'm not a bad person. On my days off and when he was off too, we'd see movies or have a meal. Not as dates or anything, but just hanging out together. I think he could see how lonely I was. Still am. I miss him.

I sit in the silence sipping my chicken broth trying not to fall any deeper into that trap. I need to keep my mind clear if I have any hope of pulling off this trip to Asgard. Tilting the bowl up I drink the last of my soup and then follow it immediately with the full glass of water. Setting the bowl and the glass back on the tray and putting them on the desk I prepare to meditate for a few hours before going to bed. I lie down on the cold tile floor and start the tedious task of relaxing my muscles. Breathing deeply I concentrate on every bone and sinew in my feet stretching and then relaxing until they're peacefully limp. Moving upward I do the same for my calves and thighs, my pelvis and hips, up to my abdomen, to my shoulders, to my neck, to my head. Now comes the most time-consuming process of clearing my mind. I imagine a cluttered room and every shirt or sock lying on the floor is a stray thought, and let me say this is one cluttered mother. Once my room is tidy I continue on to all the other rooms in my mind palace. The demon taught me this technique. Apparently a lot of hypnotists and specialists use this method too, or so he told me.

At last my mind palace is spick and span so I fade everything out to white and sink into the final stage of meditation. This state of unconsciousness is the hardest to achieve out of the whole practice. Some people never master this step, but I had to out of necessity. It was meditate or slowly go insane from the effect of having two souls in one body. He explained it to me like this. A normal human body is only meant to contain one soul. Under normal circumstances two souls would cause the body to be overtaxed and the mind, metaphysically speaking, to rupture. Think of a water balloon. At its fullest point the balloon is like the body and mind while the water is the soul. If one were to over fill that balloon it would burst. The physical effect of this predicament on the human body causes the brain to hemorrhage. We know that the brain does this but we don't know the physical cause, but the effect on the psyche is more intricate. It's like trying to keep two different but compatible solutions from mixing. One soul is drawn to the other as if by some gravitational force, or maybe it's more like the principle of equilibrium. Either way the souls mingle together until one is indistinguishable from the other, never to be rendered apart. In order to stop this union, one must build a barricade to seal the two off from one another. This is the use of meditation. It is a renewal of the barrier set between my soul and the demon's. I'm not sure of the details but he said that meditation is the practice of strengthening the soul through force of will or something. He doesn't make much sense sometimes, but I know it works. If I don't meditate once every few days I notice changes in my behavior and personality. He says it's because the wall thins out and some of each of our souls is able to cross. Meditating reassembles my soul and I'm sure his returns to him while thickening that wall.

When I come back to full consciousness my bio-rhythm tells me it's somewhere around nine pm so I strip down to my shirt and undies and crawl under my fresh sheets and rest on my side. I smell the scent of clean laundry and relish the feel of an actual bed. I've spent way too many nights sitting awake or sleeping in a chair. I sketch out a quick schedule for the week consisting purely of twice daily showers, one upon waking and one before bed, consuming soup and water, meditation, and sleep. Once satisfied I count backwards from one hundred as I have every night since I can remember and nod off in the middle of seventy-two.


	4. Briefing

Hi, LVC again. It's really nice to see my story getting so much traffic. To those of you who have favorite-ed and/or begun following me thanks muchly. I am honestly pleasantly surprised, although I must admit having no feedback is driving me a little bonkers. So you know want. O_O Anyway, the standard disclaimer applies. I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, etc. Enjoy!

LVCatullus

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Chapter 3

The week passed by fairly quickly and this morning I find myself waking up to the sound of knocking at my door. "Just gimme a minute!" I sit up and find some pants to pull on and decide to throw on a bra while I'm at it. The knocking still hasn't stopped even as I'm shouting random noises at the door. I'm not much of a morning person. My hair is a mess and I probably look pretty pissed, but Maria is standing unfazed by my appearance and quickly tells me to get my shit together and meet her in the conference room from before, only not in the same words. After a quick tooth and hair brushing I'm riding up to the fortieth floor, as I have been told, and dreading the act of stepping out of this little glass box and into the lion's den.

Upon the ding I slouch out of the elevator and slide my key card through the reader and enter. As I expected, there's Fury in all his black leather trenched glory as well as a few other people I didn't recognize. Two women and an middle-aged looking man. The shorter of the women has thick curly brunette hair and a punk fashion sense while the taller one is thinner with lighter hair and next to no fashion sense. It seemed to work for her, though. The man is quite tall, at least six feet, and of Northern European background I believe. His hair is blond and he has the kind of slouch that tall people get when they're self-conscious.

Fury steps forward and greets me. "Took you long enough, Agent." Ain't he just brimming with kindness. "Get over here so we can brief you." I straighten into my soldier stance and stride across the room to stop in front of Fury. I consider giving him a flippant salute, but decide that I like having my fingers.

"This is Dr. Eric Selvig," he stated gesturing to the tall man. Continuing on he waved at the tall woman, "Dr. Jane Foster," and finally, "Darcy Lewis." I shook each of their hands and went back to my original position. "They're going to explain what they can about Asgard and Thor so you have an idea of what to expect." Then, he stepped aside and waved me forward.

Dr. Selvig speaks first. "As you know Asgard seems to be in a separate universe from ours and possibly even a different dimension. I can't tell you how to travel there or what you'll experience while you're traveling, but we can tell you a little about Thor and what we know about Asgard. Although, a good deal of what we know about Asgard comes from books and Thor's stories."

I nod. "Of course. I'm delighted to have all the help I can get; I'll need it. So, why don't you tell me what you can about Thor first, since you've actually met him?" I still have a hard time believing that the Norse god of thunder is real.

Jane pops in this time. "His appearance is human, but he does have some abilities that are classified as superhuman. As you can guess he can create an electric charge and discharge it with the use of his hammer, Mjolnir. He's also incredibly strong and has a very high healing factor." She stops then, thinking of what to say next.

"He's also super hot." I turn to stare at Darcy, not sure if I heard her correctly. Gazing around the room I notice that everyone else is giving her pointed stares or rolling their eyes, or in Fury's case eye. "Right," I drawl.

This seems to get the room back in order. Jane continues, "I met him a few years ago in New Mexico when we were doing research on an astrophysical anomaly. We were out in the desert in our van when we saw a storm touch ground a few miles south and we drove right towards it. I was hoping to collect data for a project I was working on. Anyway, we didn't see him in the cloud of sand and Darcy sort of hit him with our van."

"Hey, you're the one who told me to drive into the storm," Darcy turned to me, "I was just there to get the college credits I needed to graduate. What kind of crazy person goes around driving through tornadoes?" I give her my patented sarcastic stare. Looking away she scuffs her black Converse on the floor. I turn back to Jane and prompt her to continue.

"Right, so yeah. He was knocked out for a bit and after a rocky introduction we hauled him into the back of the van and took him to the hospital."

The conversation continues much in this vein with me noticing more and more how much Jane must care about this alien and how hilarious and annoying Darcy could be. Dr. Selvig filled me in on what happened last year with the alien invasion and the Avengers initiative with a little, the operative word being little, input from Fury where needed. At last I was brought up to speed about Thor and the past year and now we are beginning to get down to business. Selvig hands me a children's book of Norse mythology and a larger tome of a more academic nature on the Norse Saga.

"You'll need to study these a bit. There's not really anything I nor Jane can tell you about Asgard itself. The books probably can't tell you much either, but it's better than nothing," he ground out with a sigh.

"Thanks, I really appreciate you all taking the time to talk with me, and the wonderful reading material," I chime, waving the children's book around. Eric lets out a chuckle while the rest of them just smile awkwardly, except Fury- he is the master of the poker face. Alright, so I'm a little out of practice with my comedy routine. Remembering why I'm going on this jaunt in the first place I pose a question to the group. "So we know next to nothing about Loki?"

Fury finally decides to speak up. I was beginning to think he had gone mute. "All we know is that Loki is Thor's adopted brother. After finding out he wasn't an Asgardian, but a Jotun, a frost giant, he became unstable and somehow fell into leadership of the Chitauri. He is now locked in a cell underneath the royal palace, or so Thor believed would happen. Let's just hope they haven't executed him." From what I've heard of Thor so far, he doesn't seem to be the kind of man to give up on his brother and let him be hanged or whatever. All throughout the narrative of last year's war Thor had been trying to save Loki. I don't see why he would have given up now.

I rise to leave and wave goodbye to Jane and her team and make to leave the room so I can read over my mythology books, but Fury stops me. "We found this after searching through our records of Thor." Fury reached into one of his trench pockets and withdraws a plastic baggie and hands it to me. Hair? "Where did you get this?" I ask lifting the bag up to the light. Inside is a single strand of gold-blonde hair.

"We came across it last year and kept it in case we wanted to do a DNA sequence." Wow, Fury. A mercenary to the bone, not a sentimental cell in his body. I nod my thanks and once more head for the door, making it this time. I feel the pocket of my jeans vibrate and pull out my phone. One new text. "You have two days. –F." Thanks for the ultimatum.

Once I find myself back in my cubicle of a room I settle onto my bed for a long period of reading. If I sit at my desk my butt will fall asleep and I'll just have to move to my bed anyway.


	5. Gold

Hiiiiiiiii, it's me again with another update. Just so you know I won't be updating every night for the whole length of this story. I'm just trying to keep my momentum for now. When I settle into my groove I'll only update once a week, maybe twice if I'm feeling froggy. Thanks to all you visitors, guests, favorite-ers, and followers; you keep me motivated. The standard disclaimer applies: I do not own the Avengers, Marvel, or anything belonging to those franchises. I do, however, own the indomitable, amazing Sin. Read and Review! and Enjoy!

LVCatullus

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Chapter 4

It's d-day and I'm brushing my teeth and giving myself a pep-talk. I have on my most comfortable outfit, which is the Shield issue cat suit surprisingly enough. It allows for a wide range of movement and the discrete little pockets are indispensable. I'm going through the spell in my mind. It's not words or some sort of ridiculous potion. Real spells are sort of like songs, only they're sung from the soul. That doesn't make much sense. It's hard to describe. When I'm casting it feels like I'm channeling a cool clear ocean with my body, directing it where to go and how to do what I need to do to accomplish my goal. It's sort of like singing in that I feel like I can direct the flow with different pitches, or vibrations in my soul. This really is a bitch to describe. All I can definitely say is that it's not a physical action but an emotional one, and that the different emotions and their subtle variations are what direct the flow of the soul and that the emotions kind of feel like vibrations in my heart. Magic is, after all, simply extending the soul outwards to affect change.

That's enough metaphysics for the day. Once I'm all set I ride the glass elevator up to the topmost floor and exit onto the roof. Once there Fury calls me over and I see Jane and co. off to the side along with a man whom I've never met but one with whom I'm fairly familiar. "What's Tony Stark doing here?" I whisper to Fury.

"He wanted to see your magic trick; his words, not mine," he replies with a smirk.

I run a hand through my loose hair and try to find my calm. Of course Stark would choose this moment to introduce himself. I can't believe it's taken me this long to meet him, what with living in his tower.

"Hey. Tony Stark. Genius, playboy, philanthropist." He swaggers while standing in front of me waiting for a reply. Is it even possible to swagger while standing still? Whatever, he manages. Just count to ten. Breathe in and out. I hold out my hand for a shake, "Hey, I'm Sin." He looks at it for a second and then decides to take it. "So you're gonna show us some witchcraft and wizardry today, Harry Potter?" I tilt my head to the side unconsciously. I've honestly never heard that one before. Bitch, whore, Satan, or any combination of those are all pretty common place, but Harry Potter is a nice change. I like those books. I allow myself a little chuckle and walk a few paces, giving myself some distance from the others. I don't need to waste energy and cause a catastrophe by accidentally taking one of them with me.

I remove the baggie from one of my pockets and extract the hair from the static cling inside. All this tension is harshing my mellow. I focus on meditating; just like all the times before, only now I'm standing and I'm going to stop at the white out. After running through the stages I find myself immersed in white. It's sort of like being underwater. There's no sound and the ripples on the surface of my soul push and pull me like the tide. Instead of basking in the nothingness like usual, I focus on the swaying of my soul. I relish all the individual waves as the sea turns rougher. Now instead of a gentle current I'm encased in a torrent of crashing waves. Now. Now I begin making waves of my own, clutching onto the hair in my right hand. I feel it. I listen to the tiny tremors it shivers out. I take those and magnify them, imposing their rhythm onto the swirling rage around me. I allow myself one thought. **I am going to where this man is.** The hair goes hot in my palm, burning my skin. The waves become even heavier pounding against me. I've never felt this kind of power before. I never knew I had it; that it was locked inside me this whole time. It's really too much, but I can't let go. I can't start rocking against the waves - my first instinct. If I try I know I'll be crushed under the force of my own magic, so I continue being battered by wave after wave. I feel so bruised; as though every organ in my body is crying out for peace. It's been hours since this bludgeoning began, or has it? I don't know. I just hope it stops soon, but the smashing doesn't cease, not for a million years does it cease.

I feel my body drop. Pain. Confused. Is there a floor underneath me? It's so cold and soothing against my skin. I could lie here forever, but a voice rouses me. My eyes struggle to open and I can feel my senses returning. Ugh. Everything hurts. Traveling isn't supposed to hurt. There's that voice again. My arms strain against gravity to lift my heavy torso up. Then there are arms around me, pulling me into a sitting position. I raise my eyes to find the most beautiful pair of golden irises staring back. A glimpse shows the rest of the man to have dark skin and to be wearing golden armor.

"Who are you? How have you come to arrive here?" His voice is like espresso; deep and rich.

"I am Agent Sin of Shield. I have to speak with Thor," I manage to croak out. He searches my face for a moment, confused. Then he hauls me to my feet and we begin an arduous trek. I'm not sure where we're headed. I can barely stand on my own feet or lift my head. My neck struggles to right my head and when I succeed I am greeted by the most breathtaking sight that I shall ever see, I am sure of it.

We are walking down a bridge that seems to made of quartz or something, but that's not right. Quartz doesn't change color. With every step we take the bridge pulses with rainbows come alive. Looking up from the bridge I can see a golden city built into the edge of a range of cliff sides. They look as if they were built in a studio and laid to rest by a craftsman's hand nestled into the earth. Under the rays of the sun it shines like gold ornaments worn by rock and dirt.

Now that I have my feet under me the throbbing in my muscles is fading away to a dull ache and my mind begins working again. "Excuse me, where are you taking me?" I ask timidly. The gold eyes glance at me before he replies, "To Thor. I can tell you are not his enemy, but I can sense a darkness in you, child. You will meet with Thor and he will decide what will be done with you." I let his words sink in as he guides me along with his arm around my waist holding me upright. So I've been judged as not a threat, at least not to Thor, which isn't really surprising considering that I have trouble walking, and now I'm being taken to see Thor by this guy who happened to be standing on a rainbow bridge. Hold on, that sounds familiar. Guy on a rainbow bridge. "What's your name? I don't think we've been properly introduced."

I get another flash of gold eyes. "I am Heimdallr, milady." I pull us to a stop and address him fully, "Pleased to meet you. I am Sin of Shield." He gives me a queer glance and pushes us into moving again.

"Yes. You have already said," he adds. I swear I can almost hear laughter in his voice. When did I tell him my name? Right. Okay. I'm back up to speed. I throw him a bashful grin.

"Sorry. I've come such a long way that I think my mind took a beating," I chuckle.

"How did you come to be on the Bifrost?" he asks. The suspicion in his tone is clear. Don't mess this up.

"I am a mage of sorts. I am the only one in the hire of Shield, so they sent me to speak with Thor. I used something of his in order to make a trail to follow to Asgard." Suddenly I feel my hand gripped around something and look down. Opening my hand I see little crescent cuts from my nails in my palm and a single gold hair. Heimdallr follows my gaze. I can feel his curiosity, but I avoid looking in his direction, not feeling like answering his unspoken question.

We walk for miles through a maze of gilded buildings. It reminds me of the Labyrinth and of Theseus who found his way through the maze and slew the Minotaur with the help of Ariadne. That story doesn't make for good thoughts so I turn my attention outwards. After a while every gold building starts to look like the next and my mind wanders to the length of our walk. I know I'm slowing Heimdallr down. He probably could have made to Thor and back to the bridge already if he wasn't carrying me. Now I'm feeling frustrated with myself and my lack of stamina. I'm pretty sure I can walk on my own now, but still not very fast or for very long. It's been quite a while since I last felt so helpless.

I jolt to an abrupt stop and thankfully jolted from my melancholy as Heimdallr knocks on a gigantic gold door carved in intricate knot work. It looks sort of Celtic to me, but I guess that makes sense, since nearly all the tribes in Ancient Europe were Celtic. A sigh escapes and Heimdallr gives me a curious glance. Why does everything in this freaking place have to be made of gold? It can't be practical.

A voice calls out from the other side of the door and the great hunks of metal swing inward. My breathing slows as I steel myself for my first meeting with the god of thunder.


	6. Getting Acquainted

Hi! This is just a short reminder that I do not own Marvel or the Avengers no matter how much I wish I may I wish I might, but Sin is totally mine.

Ta!

LVCatullus

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Chapter 5

I force my breathing into a slow tempo, counting in ¾ time. In, two, three, out, two, three. Loosing up my muscles I run through as much of my meditation routine as I can before Heimdallr tightens his hold on my side, catching my attention. Behind the giant gold doors is not a throne room, what I had been expecting, but some sort of lounge area. There is a fire pit in the center of the room with a sort of couch placed in front of it and several chairs and tables scattered throughout. It looks fairly comfortable except for the vast amount of shiny metal making up the walls and floor. My perusal of the room is interrupted by a slight shuffling drawing my eyes to the five figures standing around the central pit. They all seem to be warriors with the way they're dressed, but who knows? Maybe that's just how Asgardians dress. There are four men, one of which has to be Thor, and one rather tall brunette woman. Heimdallr gives my waist another nudge lightly shoving me into the room.

"Sin of Shield. I found her on the Bifrost. She claims she must speak with you, my prince." Heimdallr's voice tolls in the air like a deep bell. Now everyone's eyes shoot to me, analyzing every inch of my form. I clear my throat. Alright. Showtime.

"I have been sent as an emissary of Shield to discuss some very dire matters with you, Thor." It comes out as more of a question as I kick myself for not thinking to consider what protocol might be necessary for addressing a god, and a prince no less. Luckily, for me, the blond giant just grins and rushes forward to tower over me directly.

"This is amazing! How did you manage to travel all this way? Only the Bifrost and my father can achieve such a feat!" My eyes go wide and I'm pretty sure I might now be deaf in one ear. Hasn't this guy ever heard of indoor voices? As I take a moment to collect myself he dives into another proclamation. "Never mind all that. You said there are dire matters to discuss. Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, I'll meet you up later. It would be best if Lady Sin and I could speak alone." As the four file out of the room I try to put names to faces. The woman must be Sif? All I can remember is something about Hogun the Grim. The Asian looking dude looks pretty grim. That just leaves Fandral and Volstagg. Oh well, I'll just figure them out later. Heimdallr must have already left; I don't see him. Pity, I wanted to thank him for practically carrying me all the way here. The four companions shut the doors behind them with a resounding thud.

Thor is still in my personal space and he's giving me the look of an expectant puppy. How can this guy be a fearsome god? Sure, he's huge but he seems more like a clown than a pit bull. I take a step back and tilt my head so I can study his face. Tall, tan, and blond. How perfect. It's just not fair that someone so sculpted and beautiful should exist. If only I could steal just a few inches of his height to add to my own.

Noticing the awkward silence that has descended I cut straight to the heart of the matter. I'm not very good at espionage as you might be able to tell. "I'm here because Shield has reason to believe the Chitauri might be launching another attack on Earth." I pull some miniature photos of the satellite images from my thigh pocket and hand them to Thor. They're dwarfed in his hands. His face takes on a serious frown as he studies each photo. As he nears the end of the stack his expression looks (dare I say) thunderous. I take a subtle glance around me half expecting dark little thunder clouds to sprout from thin air.

"I am afraid that Shield's suspicions are correct. However, their numbers seem to have drastically increased from the size of the last invading force. I shall speak with my father and prepare to travel to Earth immediately," he says still holding the pictures and hustling for the door. Shit.

"Wait!" I shout, pivoting to face him. "That's not the only reason for my visit. I'm sure Shield will need your help again, but there is one other that I have been ordered to bring back with me. He's our only chance of knowing what to expect from another attack. Please, Thor. We need your brother. We need Loki." I can tell by his tumultuous expression that I must have struck a low blow. Fury had said that Thor still cares very deeply for his brother even in spite of all the horrible things he did to Earth. I knew the reaction that I would get and now I regret it. I'm too soft-hearted, which also makes me unfit for espionage. I feel my gaze softening for him and for a moment I allow Thor to see how conflicted I am. Get a grip, girl. Ugh. I give myself a tiny shake and put my mask of indifference back on. He nods hesitantly.

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not sure Father will allow it. Loki's punishment is severe and I don't think anyone in Asgard, except for Mother and I, will be glad to see it lifted." He turns to leave once more and I jerk forward. "Jane says Hi, and that she misses you." I feel like an idiot for saying it, but I promised Jane I would and I feel as though I owed Thor some happiness. His shoulders straighten and he turns to me with a giddy smile and a quick nod, and then he's gone.

Great, now what am I supposed to do? I'm stranded in a foreign place with no idea what the hell I should be doing. Should I flag down a passerby, or something? Unconsciously I start pacing the gold floor trying to get up my courage enough to ask someone what to do. The staccato of my heels hitting the floor becomes my metronome. Maybe I can hypnotize myself into asking for help. Ugh. Why do I have to be such a pansy? It should be easy: just go into the hall and find someone, anyone, and ask them for help. Damn my pride.

Tap, Tap. Huh? I spin around to direction of the sound and there on the threshold stands the warrior woman from before. Sif?

"I passed Thor in the hall just a moment ago. He said something about being a proper host, well, he shouted it as he jogged by." Thank Jesus!

"Oh. Thank you for coming back. I was just wondering what I'm supposed to be doing now," I half sigh in relief. The corners of Sif's mouth twitch up in a smile before straightening out. "Of course, I'll take you to the rooms the palace has reserved for political guests. You may rest and bathe if you like. Since you are a guest of Thor you may dine with the royal family tonight for supper. I'll ask someone to show you the way."

As she speaks she guides me into the hallway and around a few corners before we begin climbing some stairs. Her legs are a good mile longer than mine and I struggle to keep up. The time spent standing in the previous room let me catch my breath and take stock of my stamina. My fatigue from the dimensional travel has mostly worn off but my muscles still ache with every movement. Noticing my predicament Sif slows her pace. Now she looks impatient, but there's no way I can keep up with her at full tilt. Not in this shape, at least.

After millions of stairs and miles of hallway I find myself in a richly appointed corridor full of tapestries and with soft runners on the floor. A bit of fabric goes a long way to making a space more cozy it seems. I already feel more at ease with some of the gleaming metal covered over. Something about all this gold looks too sterile. Cold. Sif picks a door at random and opens it stepping aside so I can see inside. I follow her and amble into the space. It's gorgeous. The bed has to be bigger than a California King and covered in every texture of fabric imaginable. The bedclothes are creamy white and the four posts of the frame are draped with gauze. Furs of all sizes and colors litter the gold floor almost to the point of obscuring it completely. A fireplace the width of twelve feet and taller than I stands steadfast opposite the bed. The furniture suite is all in dark, heavy wood including an armoire and a lady's vanity. I move past all these and to the glass French doors leading out onto a small balcony. The view is even better than my first glimpse of Asgard from the bridge. Countless waterfalls drop over sharp cliffs like silver chains. There are forests on the outermost edges of the city, and, oh, the city. It looks like a model come to life with hundreds upon thousands of tiny people weaving in and out of the streets. I look straight down to see to my chagrin that the balcony is many stories up from ground level and decide to go sit on the bed. Vertigo has my head spinning and I plop down onto the soft mattress and stare blankly at the floor.

"Is the room to your liking?" Sif calls. She's still standing in the doorway and she's giving me a peculiar look. "There is a washroom through that door over there," she points to the left of the fireplace. "It should have everything you need for a bath." I haul myself up from the bed and go to examine the bathroom. Once inside I am stunned to see a bathroom the size of my bedroom in New York. The floor is stone tile, not gold, and an enormous marble tub stands in the middle of the room. I look all around me to find a sink and cabinets along with shelves and shelves of bathing products that I have no idea how to use. There are windows on the outer wall and I'm actually comfortable with the floor to ceiling glass in the bathroom. I can hardly imagine any peeping toms seeing into something so high up.

"I'll just leave you to rest, then. A maid will be by to bring you to supper. Bathe and rest if you wish." With that, Sif gave a little wave and closed the door behind her. A bath sounds lovely. I walk over to the shelves running my hands over the various bottles of soaps and oils. I pick up a glass one filled with some sort of sea-green liquid and pop its cork. Mmmm. It's like nothing I've ever smelled; something like if spring was combined with balmy summer nights. I carry the bottle over to the tub and set it on the floor. Now, how do I draw water? There are knobs; I guess I'll just try my luck. After a little bit of fiddling the temperature is just cool enough to be bearable. I love hot baths. The sting is so soothing. I stopper up the drain and strip out of my cat suit. I wish I had thought to bring a hair tie, but I hardly ever put my hair back except for combat situations and showers. Oh well. I dip one foot into the tub and relish the steam. Coming to stand fully in the water I sink into a sitting position and soak my aching body. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah. So niiiiiiiiiice. When my hands have gotten all prune-y and the water has cooled I soap up with the green liquid and dunk my head under water to rinse out my hair. Twisting the blonde mass I squeeze out the excess water and stand letting myself drip dry for a minute. Damn, forgot the towels. Carefully I step out of the tub onto the cold tile, missing the hot water. I run daintily over to the cabinets, trying to be sure not to slip and start rummaging for something to dry with. Ah hah. Victory. Hastily throwing my hair into a turban I scrub all the water off and wrap up. Remembering the full tub I tiptoe over to its side and crouch on my feet for warmth and yank out the stopper.

Exiting into the bedroom I discover a robe laid out on my bed. Was that there before? How creepy is that? Shrugging I drop my towel and wrap myself in the warm green robe and tie the sash. I yawn and sit on top of the covers. I should really comb my hair but the bed's so soft and comfy. I'll just lie down for a few minutes I think, now lying fully on the bed. Just a few minutes. My eyes drift shut.

* * *

I know it's taking me a while, but I promise next chapter will be much more exciting. Sin's past will rear its ugly head and palace guards will be involved. I just like to do the proper setting up before delving into the action. Too slow? To fast (who am I kidding)? Throw me bone!


	7. Hunted

Hello again! I have gotten some great feedback from Yasumi and AndroidSister and thanks to them we will be seeing Loki next time. Also, I'll try to pick up the pace. Everybody feel free to review! Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the Avengers. Enjoy!

LVCatullus

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Chapter 6

Blood. The tangy copper smell assaults my nose, drowning my senses. It's all I can smell. It's so strong. I can taste it; my stomach cramps trying to reject the acrid flavor. I don't understand. I just went out to the library for a few hours. My boots crush the gravel beneath my feet. Nothing looks wrong, but my blood won't stop cutting through my veins. My heart won't stop climbing up my throat. Everything looks just the same as always; the same two-story farmhouse, the same five acre lot. The front lawn is freshly mowed; the blades of grass cut short like a military high-and-tight. The flower beds are full of early summer blooms. The daylilies are stretching from their seats beside the covered porch towards the sun. My boots pound harshly against the wood of the steps up to the porch, each thud sending shivers to rack my chest. The front door is already open, but that's normal, isn't it? We never lock our door. We live in the middle of the country. I push the door open and it glides silently on its hinges.

"Mom? Dad? Hello!" There's no answer. Maybe they're out back. I mean, Mom said they were going to do some yard work before I left. I drop my worn out back pack by the door. Any minute now they're going to pop in the back door and grill me about getting a job or choosing a career. Any minute now.

I walk down the hall passing family photos. My favorite is the one where I'm two and we're at a pumpkin patch somewhere. I'm sitting on a pumpkin twice my size with Mom and Dad on either side of me. Mom's running a hand through her short dark hair. She's got the biggest smile like she's been caught mid-laugh and she's looking over my head at Dad. He's crouched down beside me saying something; I can't remember what.

The hall runs from the front door straight through the house to the back door. It should take a couple of minutes to walk at most but it's taking forever. My booted feet are echoing in my ears- the sound matching the thud of my pulse. My eyes are burning. Am I crying? My hands wander my face wiping off the senseless tears. I'm fine. Stop crying. You're fine. Stop crying.

At last I'm at the screen door that opens onto the back porch. My hand is on the catch but I can't move. That salty, coppery smell. The tears are back and I don't bother wiping them away now. There's something horrible on the other side of this door. If I don't open it I don't have to see. The bits of nailed together wood and wire mesh will protect me, but that's not right. I have to open it. There's no other way. It has to happen.

The springs and hinges wail as I push against their weight. I stumble over the threshold and catch myself just to look up and see. Everything is red. The grass, the trees, and there's a man standing there. Just standing there in all that red and he's red too. For the moment I forget my family and nothing exists but he and I. The fear presses against my heart. It grabs hold of my lungs like two great hands and squeezes. There's no doubt why I'm crying now. It's out of terror; the kind of primal fear that springs from fight or flight. It's the fear that drives survival. He's the wolf and I'm the rabbit and the only defense I have is the pounding of my heart screaming at me to run. There's a muffled wheeze and gurgle somewhere in my peripherals. I turn my head, my torso and legs remaining frozen for fear of initiating the chase. Scanning the ground my attention falls upon two crumpled masses on the vermillion ground. Bodies. Human. Wide eyes. Accusing stares. Dead eyes.

I stumble, back pedaling away from the grotesque corpses of my family. This is all the invitation that wolf needs. The predator lunges. Hands around my throat. Copper and salt. Pain. Everywhere there's pain; in my heart, in my core. My soul is crying out, but it's not God who answers.

* * *

Hands. Flinging myself up from my supine position I grab those hands and wrench the arms toward me rolling out of bed to the floor taking the monster with me. Contorting my body I tackle it so I'm on top with it prone on the floor. I take one of its arms and twist it behind its back putting all my weight against the shoulder joint, waiting for the pop.

Screaming, but it's not male. A woman?

I roll away from my assailant releasing my grip on her arm. I stand and back away. Where am I? My gaze flies around the room. Bed, fireplace, balcony. Asgard.

I remember now. Everything is coming back into focus. The travel, Thor, Heimdallr, Sif. I allow myself a breath. I look back to the woman on the ground and find that she's nothing like the monster from my dream, or memory rather. She's wearing a long cotton gown in warm neutral tones. Her hair is a mess from our tumble and the blonde is one massive tangle. I make to approach but she spies my movement and huddles herself against the sideboard of the bed. I sigh ready to speak when my door bursts open and several heavily armored guards rush in.

Each has a spear hefted with its point facing me. At this opportune moment I realize my robe has come undone during the struggle and I'm wearing nothing underneath. So much blood rushed to my face it's a minor miracle that the pressure on my brain didn't result in a faint. The guards and the servant had the grace not to notice or just not care. Either way I'm saved from more embarrassment. What a mess I must be. I'm sure my hair is one big lump, especially since I forgot to brush it, and I'm wearing nothing but a robe. To top it all off there's a maid cowering in terror before me and I think I'm still crying. Grabbing a sleeve I wipe my nose and with the other I wipe my face. No one really knows what to do. The danger is over and no one is seriously injured but the guards still have their spears up. I raise my hands in the universal gesture of appeal.

"I'm so sorry," my voice croaks. I clear it and try again. I think the maid has begun to breathe again. At least she's not clinging to the bed frame anymore. "I was, uh," ugh. I rake my hands through my rat's nest of hair. "Nightmare. I was having a nightmare… and you woke me up but I thought you were someone else. I didn't mean to. I'm just- I'm so sorry." I wipe my eyes again. Now everyone in Asgard is going to treat me like a rabid animal. Why can't I just be fucking normal for once, or at least not a fucking lunatic? Is it really so hard? What the fuck is wrong with me? Fuck. Why can't I just be somebody else?

My throat tightens nearly shut. A feeling similar to vertigo seizes hold of my gut. Shit. Not now. Tremors dance along my muscles. Every fiber is locked tight. I can't do this here. Not now. I feel that familiar crumpling starting in my ribs and pull my arms to my chest, wrapping around myself as if I could hold myself together with my own hands; as though I can protect my heart from the pain. A searing ache stabs my knees and I know I've hit the floor. Such a fucking idiot. Now I'm making a scene. Now they know how disgusting and weak I am.

Not enough air. Gulping, wheezing. There's not enough air; I can't breathe.

Warm. I'm warm and someone has me. Some has their arms around me and I'm being held together. So warm. Who?

I pull away just enough to see a face. A woman? She's not young, but she isn't old either. I don't understand how she manages to be both, but her embrace- it reminds me of my mother. My lungs take in a greedy gasp and I lay my head against her curly golden hair. The ache inside my soul recedes and I unwrap my arms from about my chest and hold tightly to her. I clutch her so firmly my knuckles go white and all I can do is cry. And she soothes me, rubbing soft circles onto my back, tracing light patterns with her palms.

It seems like we've been there sitting on the floor for hours when I finally catch my breath. For a moment I loosen my grip but hold fast to her in a hungry embrace. In my head I'm still crying for my mother, telling her how much I miss her. For a moment I pretend that this blonde goddess is my mother, that for just one moment I'm not alone anymore.

"Mother?! What has happened? Lady Sin?" Then the moment was gone.

I pull away from the woman to find Thor standing in my doorway. He's out of breath, panting. I guess I've made quite a mess if Thor and his mother have to come and investigate. I gather myself onto my feet and stand, pulling away from the woman's arms and standing. She, too, stands and we both face Thor. She brings herself a little in front of me as though to shield me from him. Another lonely ache pulses in my throat. How can she be so kind to me? She doesn't know me. We haven't even been introduced yet, but she treats me like a mother would a child, and I haven't been anyone's child in quite some time.

"There is nothing to fret about, dear. There was a misunderstanding; that is all. I believe that Lady Sin simply isn't feeling very well, isn't that so?" she asks me. I can't trust my voice just yet so I nod. "There, you see? I am sure she just needs to rest from her journey." She turns her full attention to me now. "If you like I can have supper sent here to your room? There is no need for you to meet anyone when you aren't well." Another nod. She smiles and takes my hands. "We haven't been introduced yet," she begins, tossing a chastising glance at her son.

"Oh! Lady Sin, this is my mother, Frigga, Queen of Asgard," he supplies sheepishly.

I clear my throat, "Pleased to meet you, your highness," I whisper, bowing slightly. She chortles and my mood lightens at the sound. I don't think I've heard an actual chortle before; it's cute.

"Please, do not look so grim. It would do me good to see this weight lifted from your shoulders. Smile, child. You are safe here. I shall make sure of it." She caresses my cheek before gliding to the door. She lays a hand on Thor's arm in a silent gesture to leave.

"I'll have a servant fetch your supper. You just rest and get well. Goodbye, Lady Sin." With that said she turned and left and I am now alone in my sumptuous room. Sometime during mine and Frigga's conversation all the guards, even the maid I throttled, had left. Without her here with me a loneliness I had long forgotten sinks into my skin. It throbs like an old wound. If I weren't so scared of being too attached I might admit I love her. I don't know how it's possible to love anyone after only a few minutes, but the hurt in my chest tells me it's true. Or maybe a few minutes is all it takes, like when a mother meets her baby for the first time. I know whether I accept it or not this woman has my unquestioned loyalty.

Exhaustion drags me down like gravity now that the adrenalin and whatever other hormones have run their course. For the second time this day I put off combing my hair and lie down on the bed. Snuggling into a pillow I relax and retreat into my mind palace, opening a door that I haven't opened for several years. In the room the floor is old oak planks and there's a worn out oriental carpet across the center. There's a small fireplace on the wall opposite the door with two wingback chairs on either side. A chintz couch sits perpendicular between them with a pair of beat up side tables at each arm. I take a seat in one of the wingbacks in our old parlor and watch every memory I have of my mother play out in the flames in the brazier until I fall asleep.


	8. Terms of Affection

Hooray! Loki finally makes his appearance today! I'm considering writing a short chapter from his point of view for next time. What do y'all think? Also, thanks to my new buddy sekirk for her very flattering review. Well, enjoy. I do not own Marvel or the Avengers.

LVCatullus

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Chapter 7

I wake to a light knocking on my door. There were no more nightmares after I fell asleep, in fact I can't remember dreaming at all. I sit up and the luxurious covers puddle in my lap. The door slowly opens and a new maid enters. I guess the one from yesterday has had enough of me. I don't blame her.

The new maid is dressed in a simple a-line light grey dress with long sleeves and her dark hair is pulled back into a braid. She looks just as young as the one from yesterday, but there's a stolid look in her brown eyes that suggests she is more prepared than the other. Her light steps carry her into the room to stand a yard or so from where I sit. Part of me wonders if this distance is protocol, but the other maid had come much closer and had touched me. So, was the first maid over-stepping her bounds or is this maid simply afraid of me?

"My name is Birgitta and I am to serve you for the duration of your stay," she announces. Her voice is stern and her stance is taut.

"Thank you, Birgitta," I smile, trying to put her at ease. It doesn't work. "Do you know what I'm supposed to be doing today?"

"A servant will bring breakfast and I shall help you dress. Beyond that, I cannot say what your schedule will be." She's clearly unused to being asked that sort of question. A subtle creasing of her forehead marks her discomfort and while she was looking me in the eyes before, she is now staring at the carpet. Maybe it's rude to ask maids questions? But who else can I ask?

"Alright. Thank you, Birgitta." With that Birgitta scurries into the bathroom and I disentangle myself from the sheets and follow her. When I walk into the bathroom she's on her knees drawing a bath. I watch as she stands and goes to the cabinets gathering a few different bottles and towels before returning to me. Promptly she unties the sash on my robe and slips the fabric from my shoulders.

"Woah, woah! What? What are you doing?!" I exclaim. I'm twenty-five years old! No one's given me a bath in decades.

Undeterred, Birgitta hustles me into the tub and begins pouring the warm water over my head with a pitcher she scrounged up. I'm pretty sure I look like a gasping fish to her and I can see a faint up turning of her lips. Oh, she's enjoying this alright; fierce Birgitta giving the bad little Midgardian a bath. Once I'm completely soaked she picks up her first bottle and a coarse wash cloth and begins scrubbing away. I must say I'm feeling insanely violated right now, but I don't know how to get her to stop. At least the smell of it is nice. Once she's finished scouring my skin and every possible crevice she rinses out the cloth and sets it aside, picking up the second of her three bottles. This one is for my hair and she immediately runs her hands through it, scrubbing my scalp. The massaging of her nimble fingers lulls me into relaxation. I've always loved having my hair taken care of and I'm actually enjoying myself now. I can almost forget that I'm naked in a bath tub with a stranger rubbing me all over. Look at the bright side: I'm sure a lot of rich people pay a lot of money to be pampered like this.

Birgitta takes up her trusty pitcher once more leaving my scalp disappointed at being abandoned. She rinses out my hair and then pours a liquid out of the third bottle onto my head. It must be some sort of oil. It smells fabulous and spicy. Maybe this being bathed by a stranger ritual is worth getting used to. She rinses my hair out a second time and then beckons me to stand. She squeezes the water from my hair and then holds out a towel for me to dry with. At least I'm trusted to dry myself.

When I'm done I wrap the towel around me and Birgitta leads me over to the vanity and sits me down on the matching stool. Once more she tackles my mane running a comb through it and removing all the tangles. Finishing up she walks over to the armoire and extracts a gorgeous ice-blue own with matching slippers. I feel like a child playing dress up. Before I joined shield I was a bit of a girly girl and having the opportunity to wear something so feminine is a nice change from the cat-suits and functional pants that I usually wear. Birgitta has me step into the skirt and pulls the bodice up and I put my arms through the wide straps. I notice there is a built-in corset just as Birgitta yanks on the ties. Despite the unyielding material of the corset I have to admit it does wonders for the bust line. No wonder women wore them for centuries. I toe on the matching beaded slippers and look at myself in the mirror.

That can't be me. She looks taller and her hair looks brighter. Instead of a murky, mousey blonde my hair is now a shimmering gold. The gown is obviously made for someone taller than I but in spite of the fabric pooling around my feet my legs look miles long, even with the supermodel height Birgitta standing behind me. My skin even looks clearer and brighter and I'm not even wearing makeup. I definitely need to bring bottles of what Birgitta used back home with me.

There's a knock at my door for the second time this morning and Birgitta ushers a girl carrying a tray of breakfast inside. I thank the servant and sit on the bed with the lap tray and begin eating. I'm finishing up an omelet when my door is assaulted a third time. Not bothering to wait for an answer the door swings open and Thor strides in.

"Good morning, Lady Sin. My father wishes to speak with you once you are finished breaking your fast. I shall escort you," he exclaims with his customary smile. I nod and have a sip of juice.

"Good morning, Thor. I'm actually ready now," I reply putting the tray aside and standing.

"Excellent." He offers me his arm and we set off. We walk through many hallways and Thor explains the subjects of all the tapestries we pass by. I'm not sure how long of for how far we walked but Thor pulls me to a stop while finishing up an anecdote from years past.

"I took Mjolnir back, of course, but Sif and the Warriors Three will never let me forget how lovely Loki and I were all dressed up like Asgardian princesses," he boomed laughing. I'm laughing freely, too. We stand catching our breath for a moment and I wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. I guess Loki wasn't always a villain. I mean, it takes a good brother to dress up in drag with you and pretend to be your handmaid just so you can get your weapon back.

We're both smiling when Thor calls out to the guards to open the door, but mine is quickly wiped from my face when I see what's on the other side. The throne room can easily fit four football fields inside it and the walls, ceiling, floor, and pillars are all gold. This room is meant to intimidate and it's doing a good job of it so far. I look above me to see the pillars climb so high above me that they all seem to meet at the top because of the distance. At the end of the room is a daïs with Odin's gold throne sitting upon it.

Odin rises in our presence and I can feel his piercing gaze on me as Thor and I journey down the center aisle. When we've reached our destination I dip into the deepest curtsy I can manage and hold it until I hear him speak.

"Rise, child." I spring to obey. I do my best to look him in the eye but his grey stare shakes my confidence and I settle for staring at his breastplate. My attention wanders for a moment and Frigga greets me with a soft smile from her place at Odin's left side. Thor leaves his place by my side and comes to rest on Odin's right. "This is Agent Sin of Shield, Father."

I hold my hands clasped in front of me and wait for Odin to speak. "I have called you here to discuss the conditions of Loki's release to you. I am aware of Thor's high regard of Shield and its Avengers and it is his opinion that sways me to your cause. However, I shall not give you my son until you have proven yourself worthy to be his guardian. Loki will need someone to look after him on Midgard and keep him from straying, but he will also need a protector to keep him from harm. I know of his crimes against your race and I know there will be those who would take advantage of his presence to do him harm. If you wish to fulfill your duty and take Loki to Midgard you must be both of these things," his gravelly voice trails off expecting an answer.

"Of course, your Majesty. I swear upon my life I shall do what you have asked," I state with conviction. I am a person of integrity and honor. Even if Odin hadn't asked me to protect and guard Loki I would have done it out of personal duty.

"Then I shall release him to you upon your completion of two more conditions. The first being that you must meet Loki personally and decide whether you wish to continue. The second condition requires you to prove yourself in battle to prove you are capable of being Loki's guard. You, Lady Sin, will face Sif in combat. Your performance will be the final factor in my decision. If you prove yourself worthy, Loki will be yours for the length of one year."

The weight of his proclamation held me rooted to the ground. I was planning on visiting Loki anyway, after all I'm going to be travelling with him and Thor to Earth anyway, but I'm not prepared to fight an immortal. Some people in Shield think I'm immortal and I do have a high rate of healing and I will have an extraordinarily long life, but I can be killed - it just takes more effort. I have no idea whether I can even wound Sif, not to mention she's the goddess of warfare. I'm in way over my head. I won't be surprised if the demon fights most of the battle.

"I understand you came to be on the Bifrost through sorcery. Please, explain to me how a mortal of Midgard has come to hold such power," Odin commands. I was hoping he was done with me.

"It is difficult to explain, but I will try, your Majesty. Several years ago I made a contract with a demon. He found me when his previous vessel discovered he was near the end of his life and went mad. The man found out who the demon's next vessel was to be. The line of succession of vessels is determined by bloodlines. I do not know how he found out that I was next in line, but he did and he came for me. He slaughtered my family and was about to kill me when the demon offered me a choice. I could die at that moment at the hands of a madman or the demon could save me at the cost of having to share my body and mind with it. I accepted the demon's help and we have been bonded ever since. In the years we have been together he has taught me my craft and by using my soul I can produce magic. However, if we work together we can produce more intricate and more powerful spells." That's the most I've ever told anyone about my skills or my past, but I know if I try to hide anything from him or try to lie he would know. His one grey eye could see right through any pretense I build.

"And does this bond have any ill-effects?" Odin inquires. I don't really want to say, in fact that's the one topic I was trying to avoid.

"I must practice daily meditation to keep our souls from becoming intermixed. Such a merger would mean I would lose my personality and conscience. I would become a monster with no remorse and nearly impossible to kill," I admit. I cast my eyes to the floor. He'll never trust me now.

Odin's features tighten into a frown. He is about to speak when Frigga places her hand on his arm, calming him. Odin then ponders a moment before speaking.

"You must understand my concern. Loki is a skilled manipulator and should you fall under his control the effects could be disastrous for Asgard and Midgard. Therefore I must ask something very vital of you. I must know your weakness. You must tell me how you can be stopped should you fail in this endeavor."

In my mind I can feel the demon rousing, waking up to protect itself from what I've been asked to do. I know in my heart that Odin is right and if anything were to go wrong he and his people would be the only ones with the strength to put me down. I answer quickly before the demon can remove my voice.

"I have but one weakness as I am. The only way to kill me as I stand before you would be to cast out the demon from my body and remove my head. I don't know how to kill the beast I might become. The demon won't speak of it." It's awake now and roiling in frustration. I feel its soul slamming against our wall trying to break into my mind. My face tightens with effort while I reinforce the barrier. Odin sees my discomfort.

"It is displeased with you," he states. Thor starts to descend the daïs to my side but Odin stops him. I look into Frigga's eyes and see compassion. My concentration slips in confusion. How can she be so kind? I'm disgusting. Can't she see? There's danger and chaos in me. I'm a monster. I don't deserve compassion. I look away from her and return to strengthening my wall. Luckily for me the demon seems to have gotten bored and slipped back into slumber. I feel the sweat in my hair but I stand straight and look Odin in the eye. _See, old man, I'm strong enough. I can control it. _My stare is defiant.

"You have acquiesced to every demand I have made. You may now go introduce yourself to Loki," said Odin dismissing me. I curtsy again and Thor comes to me and guides me out the door.

"I'll take you to Loki. He is kept in the prison underneath the palace. If you wish I shall be with you the entire time," he offers. I grip his arm and smile up at him. "Thanks, I'd like that." I guess he could tell how nervous I've become since leaving the throne room. We walk in silence the rest of the journey. Gradually the decor becomes less opulent until we are walking through halls made of smooth stone without any trappings at all. We've descended dozens of staircases and sometimes my ears pop from the change in altitude.

Two guards in front of an iron portcullis stop us, asking Thor why we've come. After a few words they step aside raising the gate to let us through. The walls in this hallway are not only stone but also rough-hewn, as though the money and effort wasn't worth spending on this place, which I suppose is true. Prisons typically aren't known for their beauty. It's dark down here with a few torches held in sconces against the walls giving off their ruddy light. The floor is as rough as the walls and I tread carefully still trying to keep up with Thor's massive gait. We pass a few cells but I can't tell if there's anyone in them. The shadows hide everything past the bars where the light can't reach.

There's another guard ahead but he's wearing a hood. None of the others had been wearing one. "He covers his face and he is not permitted to speak in order to protect him from any acts of vengeance from escaped prisoners," Thor explains. I think the hood makes the guard look like an executioner, but I guess it's serving a similar function in both cases. The hooded man stands aside allowing Thor and me to see into the cell.

I'm first met with a strong stench wafting from inside before I'm struck by the sight of the prisoner. Loki must have been down here for the two years since New York and by the state of his body and clothes I'd suspect he's been completely forgotten if not for the man guarding him. He's chained to the far wall by cuffs around his neck, wrists, and ankles. There are sores where the iron has cut into his flesh; they're puffy and red with infection. Under his ratty clothes, where bare skin shows through I can see markings that look like more chains. I look to Thor in curiosity, "What are those markings?"

He bends closer to the bars to get a better view. "Those are runes carved into his skin to keep him from using his magic. Father gave those to him the day we arrived home." Thor shakes his head; a sad frown marring his face.

I turn my attention back to Loki and see a contraption that looks like a muzzle one would put on a dog to keep it from biting. How am I supposed to speak with him if he can't speak back? I turn to face the guard. "Remove the muzzle," I command. Silence. The hooded man doesn't even seem to hear me. I look to Thor in silent question.

"Do as the lady says, guard. Odin himself sent her here to speak with the prisoner," Thor asserts. The guard moves hesitantly, unsure of his orders. After some internal debate the guard opens the cell door and removes the metal from Loki's head. The contraption has left more sores around his cheeks and jaw. Before the guard shuts the door I slide past him inside. It just seems impossible to have a proper conversation through bars. I stand a few feet away from Loki and wait for him to acknowledge my presence. He doesn't give any sign that he knows Thor and I are here at all. He just remains sitting upon the damp stone floor, staring at his lap.

Instead of just staring at his unmoving form I examine the cell while Thor comes inside to join me. I estimate it to be twelve feet by twelve, a decent size for one man, but that's where the charm runs out. There's a bucket in one corner that smells like it's filled with excrement and at the front of the cell sits one tin pan full of a gruel mixture and another with clean water. I see no bed and one look at Loki's emaciated body plainly shows he must be starving. From my closer vantage his raw ankles and wrists look even worse with red streaks running past the sores up his arms and legs. I know he's done horrible things but this treatment is torture. It's disgusting. The poor man probably hasn't heard any sound except for his own breathing for the past two years; that alone would drive a person insane.

"Loki. Brother. Look at me. I am here, Brother. Please look at me." Thor's plea echoes off the stone walls but Loki has either gone completely mad or he's ignoring him. I can't stand this. He isn't speaking and I'm not sure he can. I tread lightly to stop directly in front of him and crouch down on my legs looking at his face. His eyes are shut but there's annoyance written in his features. I lay a hand on his cheek and scan him for injuries with my magic. Surprisingly the only wounds he has are from the cuffs and the muzzle. I send a thrum of energy through my hand into his body and sync its pulse to his. Slowly the infection recedes and the sores disappear. I didn't realize I had closed my eyes in concentration until I open them to find two green ones glaring at me.

I jolt backwards in shock landing hard on my ass. For a second he seems amused before his mask of hatred is secure. "My name is Agent Sin. Shield has sent me here to bring you back with me to Earth. We need your help whether you're willing to give it or not. There is reason to believe the Chitauri are planning another attack and we need your knowledge to help us prepare." I reach to pull the photos out of my pocket and realize that I'm not wearing the cat-suit from yesterday. I settle my hands on my lap and wait for a response.

Instead of the tirade I was expecting I am met with an amused yet sinister grin. My body shudders and he sees; his grin grows more pronounced. "And however did you come to be here, _ástin mín_?" he purrs.

I was prepared for insults and rage, not this puzzling charade. "I think you know," I reply avoiding eye contact.

"Indeed, I think I must. The Bifrost is still under repair if I'm not mistaken, so you cannot have arrived that way. The only other means of travel from Midgard to Asgard, aside from the Tesseract which is now in Odin's keeping, is sorcery. You are a sorceress, _hjartaò mitt_," he hums delightedly.

Thor's hand on my shoulder startles me from my unease. "That is enough. We must leave now, Lady Sin. Goodbye, Brother," he calls his voice tinged with grief. I stand to follow but Loki captures my wrist, pulling down to face him.

"I shall eagerly await your return, _ástin mín_," he whispers forebodingly in my ears.

* * *

I can still feel his hot breath on my skin even now that we've left the prison. I feel safer in the well lit hallway but one thing still puzzles me. "Thor, what did those words mean? They weren't English," I ask. The god ponders a minute reviewing the short exchange Loki and I had. "My brother called you _ástin mín_ and _hjartaò mitt_, did he not?" He asks in return. I nod. "They are words in our mother-tongue. _á__stin mín_ means 'my dear' in this language, and _hjartaò mitt_ is 'my heart,'" he explains.

My cheeks flush in embarrassment and confusion. "Why would he call me that, Thor?"

"I am afraid I do not understand either, my lady," he admits.

Why would he be so personal with me? I touch my cheeks and feel the heat radiating from my skin. If he's aiming to confuse me he's done a bang up job. I don't think a man has ever spoken to me like that in my whole life. The last time I went on a date I was seventeen and the best compliment I got from that loser was "I like your makeup." Of course there's a huge gap between awkward teen and ageless god. I imagine Loki would be very handsome in his prime. You know; not covered in dirt and grime, emaciated, and clothed in rags. I've seen some of the footage from his attack on New York where he's in his armor. He'd be a smooth operator outside a prison cell. Heck, he had me blushing even when he looks like a holocaust victim. It must be something about his eyes or his voice.

_Woah_! I catch myself mid-rant. This is not going to work. I cannot start crushing on the villain who destroyed half of New York and killed countless humans. No, no, no, no. I mean, this is ridiculous. He's more like a spider than a man. He spins lies like silk and feast on unsuspecting dupes like me for breakfast. He's a disgusting monster. _But so are __you_, says my conscience.


	9. Dreams, Memories, and Distractions

Hello, All. Sorry it's taken me so long to update so please accept this Loki chapter as my sincere apology. Also, be on the lookout for another chapter that will hopefully be posted later this week. For reference, and for the history nerds out there, here's the website with the Norse terms I used:

Since FF doesn't like links look for A Clerk of Oxford at blogspot. The article is "Medieval Terms of Endearment" and it was written in November 2011.

As always, I do not own Marvel or the Avengers.

Ta!

LVCatullus

* * *

Chapter 8

He wakes to the sound of metal hitting stone. Instead of hauling his aching, infection riddled body off of the cold floor he sits still leaning his back against the wall and tightens the seal on his already closed eyes. The dream had been good for once and he doesn't want to open his eyes and acknowledge the hell his life has become.

In the dream he was a child again; old enough to speak fluently but young enough to be happy with simple things. Everything was good again. Good seems like too trite a word for the feelings this dream evoked but it sums up the situation nicely. He wasn't a villain there, he wasn't a tortured soul living in Thor's shadow, and he wasn't a monster. He was simply a young boy, and that was good. They were in the garden, just he and Mother. She was holding his hand and they were walking around the borders of the lawn looking at the flowers. Mother was trying to teach him their names, but he wasn't interested in flowers. The sun filtered through the old oak trees standing in the center of the yard casting warm drops of heat down on his dark hair and pale skin. The warmth of the light radiated from the outer layers of his clothes creeping into his flesh and settling in his chest. And Mother was holding him, with both of them reclining on the soft grass. Her tender arms and hands curled around him adding to the warmth in his chest and expanding it into his mind. While they laid there she whispered all the kind things mothers do. She told him how smart he is and how proud she is of him. She crooned old lullabies and hummed sweet nothings into his thirsty ears. But his favorite melody out of all these little songs was the three small words he would never tire of hearing.

But no matter how long he keeps his eyes closed or how he strives to remember and engrave each little detail into his memory, the dream is gone. The warmth of the sun and Frigga's caress is gone. Reality is here and now; this harsh stone biting into his ass and these sharp shackles cutting into his neck, wrists, and ankles. These are real sensations and this is his life. Shame and loathing slither into his mind chasing out the warmth of the garden and his mother. The urge to scream and dash around like a caged beast is unbearable, especially because he is allowed neither of these privileges. The muzzle clings to his raw face like a leech sapping away any attempt at expression, feeding the flame of his furor like a bellows.

He shifts his weight to his left ass-cheek and brings his knee up to rest his elbow. All of that emotional tumult channeled into a single mundane action; no breaking things or reeking havoc. After all, what havoc is there to be had when one is bound and imprisoned with no fragile objects to smash? None, and besides, the right cheek was beginning to sting.

However, this utter boredom and near complete neglect is vastly preferable to the punishment of Thanos wrought by the Other that was promised him. The mere memories of his captivity drive needles of pain into every pore, followed by abject disgust at his own weakness. When he arrived on that detestable wasteland of a planet he was malnourished and grieving which led to him being easily captured by the Chitauri and taken to the Other. After mistreatment at the hands of those idiotic brutes the Other imprisoned him and treated him as his brand new plaything. Upon a random visit from Thanos, however, he was deemed useful and given extra-special attention to break his will. Inevitably, after various methods of intricate torture he broke like a fine vase. Anything was worth an end to the ceaseless agony. So, to his everlasting revulsion he vowed fealty to the red bastard. He who had been a king! He who had been the rightful ruler of Asgard- a planet of exponentially more significance than Thanos' desolate rock. How happily he sacrificed his pride to that disgusting fuck. But that wasn't enough, not only did Thanos have him begging to be a slave, he was also stripped of his free will by the same spear he later used to subjugate the mortals on Midgard. He was happy to be rid of it the moment the Midgardian soldiers confiscated it in Germany. The time spent away from the spear in the containment facility was a happy respite from its overbearing control of him. Although he hadn't been in control of his actions his thoughts were still his own and he relished the clarity the distance gave. He even had the opportunity to toy with those darling mortal heroes. He was loath to leave the peace and quiet and return to battle, even though his moronic brother was aboard the same ship.

In his mind, the end game in New York couldn't have gone better. He single-handedly destroyed the army of Chitauri Thanos gave him and he was freed from the spear's influence. The future seemed relatively bright as well with him being drug off by Thor to Asgard where Thanos couldn't hope to reach him. Of course in the moment of victory he hadn't accounted for the utter humiliation and self loathing that would be his constant companions in this solitary confinement. Nor did he reckon for the binding runes carved into his skin curling around his legs and arms, wrapping around his torso and meeting below his breast bone. Being severed from his magic was nearly as cruel as the torture of Thanos and the Other. For the first time in his miserable life he felt as worthless and disgusting as the Warriors Three, Sif, and Odin all believed him to be.

Now here he sits; powerless, speechless, dirty, starving, and sick with fever. His once elegant clothes now rags hanging off his emaciated frame. In this cell he sits; too weak to do much else than shift from right to left ass-cheek. **Bored as hell. Living in dreams. Dreams**. His eyes dilate and the heavy lids meet once more. He can almost feel the sunshine and the grass beneath his feet when there are voices outside the cell. His eyes remain closed and he focuses entirely on his hearing, hungrily devouring the words. It's been so long since he's heard anyone speak. The guard is forbidden to speak and he himself is quite unable.

There is a woman and Thor outside. "What are those markings?" her voice is like cool rain in his ears. **What, these? Love notes from Odin, **_**ástin mín**_**. **

"Remove the muzzle," she demands. **I rather like this fool already.**

The heavy iron door swings inward screeching on its hinges and the heavy footfalls of the guard echo against the stone. In swift, efficient movements he removes the contraption and fresh air caresses sore flesh. Loki breathes cool air deep into his lungs; his first free breath since his imprisonment. The harsh steps of the guard pound towards the door intercepted by lighter footsteps. **Must be the wench**. She treads over to stop in front of his sedate form and pauses. **Speak, then, foolish girl. Or have you come to stare at the revolting monster**? Another set of footsteps enters the cell. **Heavier than the guard's. Must be Thor**.

"Loki. Brother. Look at me. I am here, Brother. Please look at me." Loki's face tightens into a grimace all previous interest fleeing his mind. In its place rage begins to build, that old familiar friend always lurking in the recesses of his consciousness. He is about to bite out a furious retort before deciding silence is a better weapon against his false brother.

Suddenly there is a warm, soft hand upon his cheek and his ire abates. The warmth of her hand spreads from the contact on his skin and trickles throughout his veins, traveling his body before resting in his infected sores. It reminds him of the sunlight and the garden, and his mother. He finds himself inadvertently leaning into her touch. In his relaxed state he opens his eyes and studies the woman before him. **Blonde, like the rest of them, and small like a child. Pale, blue dress, nice dress, soft hands. Mortal, no. Immortal, no. What is she? This is magic. She is healing my wounds but what is she**?

She finally opens her eyes once his flesh has knitted back together and tumbles back in surprise at his stare. Loki could have laughed if he wasn't determined to slight Thor as best he could. He does, however, let a grin sneak past.

"My name is Agent Sin. Shield has sent me here to bring you back with me to Earth. We need your help whether you're willing to give it or not. There is reason to believe the Chitauri are planning another attack and we need your knowledge to help us prepare."

**Did she practice that little speech? Agent. Shield. As if I would lift a finger in their aid. Chitauri. Those bumbling fools should be easy enough to take care of, why bother me? But, she is the first to visit me in my isolation, might as well have a bit of fun**. He unleashes a fierce smirk and chooses his words for effect.

"And however did you come to be here, _ástin mín_?" he purrs. Her reaction is delectable; the most fun he's had in ages. She shrinks from him almost imperceptibly and avoids his stare. Her obvious discomfort fills him with glee.

"I think you know," she replies. **Of course I do, my dear little pet**.

"Indeed, I think I must. The Bifrost is still under repair if I'm not mistaken, so you cannot have arrived that way. The only other means of travel from Midgard to Asgard, aside from the Tesseract which is now in Odin's keeping, is sorcery. You are a sorceress, _hjartaò mitt_," he hums delightedly. **Perhaps I should go to Midgard. If only to toy with this delicious little morsel, and there is the rest of Shield and the mortal populace with which to play**. Thor's declaration of departure spurs Loki into action. Straining his newly healed flesh he snatches the woman's wrist and drags her down to him. With no small amount of charm he pays her farewell. **She will return**.

Once their footfalls disappear from his hearing he allows himself a hearty grin underneath the replaced muzzle. **The game has begun**.


	10. Armor

Hello, All. I've just been wondering recently if I've updated often enough. I know in a perfect world I would have a chapter written and posted every day, but I'm not a machine. However, I'd be willing to step it up if my pace is frustrating. Any who, today we have some Frigga-Sin bonding time. I know last week I said I would have this chapter out sooner but c'est la vie, but I am super excited to get started on the battle scene with a bit of Loki p.o.v. tucked in. Hooray!

As always I do not own Marvel or the Avengers. Sin is mine. The end.

LVCatullus

* * *

Chapter 9

The next day I slowly begin the ascent to consciousness taking my time stretching my legs and feeling the smooth sheets against my skin. I can't help smiling as I remember how different yesterday's morning had been. In fact, all of yesterday had been spent in a similar manner: rushing from place to place and relying on the kindness of others to keep me from being a complete idiot. After my visit with Loki, Thor took me back to my room and told me I would be brought "dinner" soon and the maid would fetch me when it was "supper" time and escort me to the dining hall to eat with Thor and his family. Apart from those meals I was free to do as I wished- somewhat.

After lunch I chose to take a small cat-nap which then turned into a three-hour snooze, and who could blame me? Being scrubbed within an inch of my life, meeting the imposing king of Asgard, and getting acquainted with the madman who tried to enslave Earth would take the wind out of anyone's sails. So, when I woke up I woke to the grating nattering of Birgitta who now believes that I am Sloth incarnate. Apparently taking naps in Asgard simply isn't done. She then shucked me out of the blue day dress I had been wearing and slipped me into a more formal plum-colored one with smatterings of intricate gold stitching around the hem. Not satisfied with just a change of wardrobe, Birgitta tackled my hair next weaving it into an elaborate braided chignon and then proceeded to paint me with makeup as artist does a canvas. All in all I must admit she did an amazing job. If I were a few inches taller I might have passed for a native.

That whole process took perhaps two hours and just as I slipped my shoes on a second maid dressed in a deeper shade of grey swept into the room and ushered me out into the hallway. They have maids for everything here. This one led me to the dining room, which is more of a banquet hall, not even bothering to introduce herself or to speak a single word. The awkward silence was deafening, at least on my end.

I was released from my silent torment upon entering the dining room where Thor, Odin, Frigga, the Warriors Three, and Sif were all already digging in. For a moment I was so stunned by the horrific table manners that I didn't notice the gaping grandeur of the room or Odin's watchful eye dissecting me. The Warriors Three and Sif all tossed out their short greetings as I took my seat next to Frigga who was again on Odin's left side. In a second of internal panic I cursed whomever came up with this seating arrangement. Who in his right mind would seat me next to a queen? She was very nice, of course, kindness just seems to diffuse from her like a radiant light and that put me at ease for the most part. Odin, however, was being Odin. I'm certain his one eye didn't leave me the entire meal and he only spoke to me in greeting and to make certain that I would be continuing with his requirements. Of course, my mind was still made up and no amount of confusing and embarrassing meetings was going to change that. At the end of the painfully awkward supper Odin declared that mine and Sif's match would be the following day: today.

Everyone, except the fat one, whose name I now understand is Volstagg, was full and we all prepared to go our separate ways when Frigga pulled me aside and asked for my company. I followed her from the hall to a sort of parlor where a fire had been made and luxurious chairs and pillows littered the floor. She took a seat in one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit before her on the floor. From somewhere she produced a brush and I realized the parlor must be attached to her bedroom, or at least a place she spends a lot of time. As she undoes the careful work Birgitta wrought on my hair I couldn't help thinking of my mother. Frigga's gentle brushing had me relaxing into her knees, but my mind fell deeper and deeper into memories. When I was little I would spend a few minutes every evening with Mom as she brushed my hair out before bed. A familiar ache settled in my chest getting heavier with every stroke of Frigga's brush. Her kindness, her radiant warmth captivated me. I was the moth to her flame and that's precisely where the problem laid. In the end the moth is always crispy and it can only blame itself and its own stupidity while the flame continues on none the wiser because that's its nature. If I got too close to her or came to depend on her I would be the one to suffer. I'm just a human after all. I don't belong here in this world. So there was no use in getting too comfortable. Besides, I was sure she'd forget me the moment I left, and somehow that made the ache in my chest even worse.

By the end of my soliloquy I could feel my muscles trembling. I was doing my best to hold in the ache and trying not to embarrass myself in front of the goddess a second time. She wasn't fooled. The light pulling at my scalp ceased and a hand reached down to lift my face. I looked at her with misty eyes, ashamed. As if she were my mother she began to stroke my cheeks. My dam burst.

As I cried Frigga got up from her chair and settled down on the floor next to me, pulling me to her resting my head on her chest. I was practically in her lap as she traced soft ovals on my back and let me cry. I can't even remember the last time I cried before coming to Asgard and now I'd humiliated myself twice, and with the same woman.

"Why are you doing this?" I sobbed, pulling back to look at her face. I could see some sadness in her too; a tightness around the jaw and eyes.

"I'm nothing to you. Why do you care?" I cried. For a while she didn't speak but looked through me.

"Do you know who I am?" she murmured. My confusion was clear. "I do not mean my name, but who I am. I am a wife and I am a mother. A long time ago Midgardians worshiped me for that. The other day I was walking down a corridor on my way to see my elder son when I heard the most terrible sound. It was the weeping of a lost child so I found the chamber from where it came and saw two palace guards at ready, a chamber maid on the floor, and a terrified girl trying to be brave. She was holding herself as if she was afraid of shaking apart. I did not know her name or who she was and I did not need to. I saw a child suffering and it broke my heart so I treated her as I would a daughter hoping she was not already broken beyond repair."

"I have seen strength in you, but I also see the wounds that have not yet healed. And I see a beautiful spirit. So, while you reside on Asgard it is my wish to see those wounds healed. Let me care for you, please." Her voice embraced me like a friend and settled into my mind dispelling the shadows of the past and loosening sadness' grip on my ribs. A single dose of kindness was not enough to cure the disease, but I could feel the symptoms easing so I carefully dismantled my outer-walls and accepted her compassion.

After a while of just sitting on the floor in Frigga's caring arms I started to fall asleep. With a smile on her face she called for a maid and helped me off the floor. A maid in a white dress came into the room holding some sort of lamp and escorted me back to my room where I put on my nightgown and went to bed.

Now as I lie in the rich sheets Birgitta has come in and straightened the room, putting away yesterday's clothes leaving a tray of breakfast at the foot of the bed. I try not to think about the battle today as I munch my toast and wash it down with juice. When I hear Birgitta drawing a bath I haul out of bed to be scrubbed and rinsed. The process is much the same as yesterday but the scents are a little different. Now done, Birgitta rings out my hair and hands me a towel and retreats into the bedroom. Laid out on the bed sits an outfit that I suspect might have come from Sif's wardrobe. There is a tunic and britches along with a belt and a roll of linen. They can't have been Sif's, though, since the pants are exactly the right length and size. I reach for the tunic but Birgitta swats my hand away and picks up the roll of linen. She gestures for me to sit and then has me raise my arms. She snatches my towel, so now I'm sitting bare-chested with my arms held out like the Vitruvian Man trying not to blush. She holds one end of the linen under my armpit and begins wrapping the roll around and around my chest. Catching on I realize that Asgard must not have invented sports bras yet. When she's finished I'm surprised by how tight I've been wrapped and subsequently by how comfortable the wrappings are. Now she hands me the tunic and allows me to pull it on and then has me stand so she can secure the belt over top.

Finally dressed I am guided over to the vanity where Birgitta pulls my hair back into a braid so tight my scalp is silently screaming bloody murder. A light tapping sounds at the door and Birgitta leaves her post behind me to answer it. Frigga and several of her ladies in waiting file into the room carrying pieces of gold armor and a stand, setting them up in front of the fireplace. I stand and accept Frigga's hug of greeting and examine the glamorous bits and pieces of precious metal. As far as I know 24 carat gold is not conducive to withstanding sword strikes.

"I had it started just after your audience with Odin yesterday. Twenty craftsmen had to work all day yesterday and all last night to have it ready," Frigga explains.

"It's beautiful. What is it made of?" I ask. I really hope it isn't pure gold.

"It is an alloy that only exists on Asgard, I believe. A fair amount of the palace is made of the same metal." Noticing my uncertainty she addresses my unstated question. "Do not worry, dear, it is quite safe. Odin's, Thor's, and Loki's armor are all made of it, not to mention Sif's." At the mention of her youngest son her tone becomes less jovial. I reach for her hand and squeeze.

"Thank you, Mam. It's gorgeous. You really didn't have to," I tell her.

"Please, dear, as far as I know you brought no armor with you and I could not let you go to battle with no protection. Come now, put it on."

Birgitta picks up the mail shirt from the bed and slips it over my head. The rings are light and fine, looking almost like the ordinary tunic like I am wearing underneath. She then lifts the breastplate off of the stand and waits for me to lift my arms. It slides over my head and rests on my shoulders with the weight of a heavy jacket. Frigga notices my incredulous face and chuckles. Once the side buckles are cinched the fit is amazingly precise. I hadn't even been measured for it. The leg pieces, the cuisse and greaves, come next followed by the shoe-like sabotons. The upper and lower vambraces go on my arms with a neck piece called a gorget going on top of the breastplate. Pauldrons go on to protect my shoulders and couters to protect my elbows. Next are the gauntlets and the tasset, which looks kind of like a metal skirt that goes from my waist to my upper thighs and parts so that each half shields the outside of each leg. To top it all off there is a helmet crafted to look something like a dragon's head complete with two sets of short recurve horns. Birgitta pins the braid flat to my head and sets the helmet on top. The whole suit weighs maybe forty pounds but distributed all over my body the load is easy to carry. I pace across the room and return to the vanity relieved that all this metal isn't as heavy as I thought.

The figure in the mirror catches my eye. I look like a gold dragon. The breastplate and all the other pieces are carved with shallow scales and knotwork. The fingers of the gauntlets end in slight talons perhaps an inch long and the sabotons were fashioned into clawed feet. I half expect myself to breathe fire.

Frigga dismisses Birgitta and the other attendants leaving just the two of us in my room. She walks across the floor and out onto the balcony waving me over.

"You asked me last night why I care so much for you. My answer was the truth, but it was not the whole truth," she murmurs. There is a conflicted look in her eyes and her voice is uncertain. "I do want you to be well, but I am also thinking of my son. Your origins may be different but I fear the results are alike. When I look at you I see a lost child, a victim, you hold yourself always at attention as though ready for attack. My son has the same appearance. I am sure you were told his history, but he was not always the man he is now." She leans against the railing with a wistful smile. I follow her gaze looking up to the sky.

"As a child he was thoughtful. He preferred to listen rather than speak and he was a joy to teach. He devoured every book he found and his tutors were always sending me letters praising his intelligence and diligence to his studies. Thor was his best friend, believe it or not. They were always up to no good together. Sometimes I wonder if they should have had more children to play with. Thor never feared meeting strangers, in fact he thrived on the attention he received, but Loki was shy. He always stuck close to Thor. They began to drift apart, though. When we discovered Loki's aptitude for magic we started him on different classes and Thor began his weapons and war training so they saw each other less. Then Thor met Sif and the Warriors Three who shared his love of combat and belief in physical strength. Loki tried to fit in with them as best he could, but he was more fit for magical and intellectual pursuits than raw strength so he was always known as Thor's little brother. I am sure they only accepted him because Thor loves him so. Loki even trained with weapons and in battle so he could be closer to his brother, desperate not to be left behind, even though he would never be as strong or as well liked as Thor. It is at this time I believe he began to resent his brother. Thor had found new friends who shared his interests and Loki felt neglected. He was always trying so hard to prove himself worthy to be their friend." Frigga's voice dips into a husky sigh.

"He always loved his mischief and tricks. Sometimes I could just barely see the anger underneath the jests, but I never understood. I should have tried harder to understand. I should have talked to him- showed him that we care. Maybe I should have told him what he was, but would it have done any good?" She rests her face in her hands. I reach out hesitantly and touch her shoulder. Clearly she loves him, even after all he has done.

"And now he is imprisoned with no one to talk to, no one to care for him. I am sure as he sits alone down there his anger and hurt are festering like an infection. How will he ever heal living by himself in that filth? That is why I need you. Your coming has showed me the solution. You must show Odin that you are strong enough to keep Loki contained. It is the only way Odin will allow Loki out of the prison and the only chance Loki has of finding peace. With you, away from Asgard, he might be able to let go of his pain," she says. She's looking at me now, her blue eyes boring into mine. "I may not be able to understand his hurt, but I know you can; you who has a demon inside her. No, do not look away," she orders, forcing my eyes to meet hers. "You do not have to like him, just please try to understand him. Be kind to him. Let him confide in you. Show him your strength and make him respect you. Give him someone to believe in."

"I am sorry to ask these things of you, especially after all my husband has asked, but I am his mother. Inside that cell he will never change. Outside with you he at least has the opportunity," she whispers almost pleadingly. Where does this unshakable faith spring from? She has known me for such a short time but she trusts me with her son. Can Loki be saved? Am I able to save him? Whatever the result I know I can't deny her.

"I promise I'll try," I say. The words hang in the air weighing heavy on my ears. Frigga's smile is misty as she reaches for my face pulling me to her. She leans down a few inches and kisses both my eyelids.


End file.
